


Fragile Hopes

by deafeningenthusiastpirate



Category: Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I Just Need A Happy Ending, I Re-Read the Book, I'm not sorry, It's the Creature, M/M, What Did You Expect, i got feels, so many feels, someone give him a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-01-31 16:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21449461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deafeningenthusiastpirate/pseuds/deafeningenthusiastpirate
Summary: “I am the abhorred, the wretch of his monstrous work.” He hissed, a hot sting of pressure behind his eyes. “I am treated as less than a beast, a daemon from the lowest pits of Hell. Thou art a heartless being, sowing the blackened seed of hope within my breast.”
Relationships: Robert Walton/Frankenstein's Creature
Comments: 10
Kudos: 102





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't seen the Frankenstein Amen Animatic by rinreeper on Youtube you are missing out on life. Same goes for the webcomic Fantome-Stein. Just... go look at them. These were what drove me to re-read Frankenstein, and by god, the feels were a real thing.  
I also may have been obsessively listening to the Frankenstein: A New Musical soundtrack non-stop for the past few months.  
All of this culminated in this short piece. I hope y'all like happy endings, 'cause I do.
> 
> I may or may not write more on this, as it was a lot of fun and had my creative juices flowing, so keep an eye out for more!

Hope was man's greatest weapon, as well as _his_ greatest torment.

Hope was a terribly fragile, yet festering thing, endlessly seeking out holes in his resolve and burrowing deep into his soul, furrowed far where he could not tear it out. Why did it hound him so? It clawed and struggled and resided stubbornly in his breast, small but encompassing. Were it but a physical thing he could rid himself of!

The Creature trembled; his rough, marred hands clutched at himself as if in agony; was it not? Tears flowed, free and uninterrupted, down his wretch-like visage. Who knew what horrors he could be likened to when he was like this: brought low in fury and shame and grief?

The man’s words resounded in his head like the church bells, loud and sweet and it _burned_ in his chest: “Wait! Please, I know Victor’s tale, but does not every story have more than a single perspective? He told me of your story, but I would hear the words from your mouth.”

_Wretched, hopeless creature!_ _Had I not learned of man’s treacherous nature? Have I not felt the blows of violence enough times?_ Yet still, that detested, desperate _hope_ smoldered to life in his chest.

“You do not know what you ask.” His voice was frigid as the air surrounding them, completely at odds with the vulnerability reflected in his watery eyes, the last defense against the suffocating swell of emotion.

The Captain stepped forward, hands slightly raised and apart, as if he were approaching a wild animal. “I ask for your account, unbiased as… Victor’s may have been.”

The sight of his cautious approach only enraged his passions further. “I am the abhorred, the wretch of his monstrous work.” The Creature hissed, a hot sting of pressure behind his eyes. “I am treated as less than a beast, a daemon from the lowest pits of Hell. Thou art a heartless being, sowing the blackened seed of hope within my breast.”

The Captain’s face twisted, distress present in his features. “I do not believe as Victor does—did. You were once capable of great love and compassion; you had said so yourself. But you were never given a chance. I want to give you that chance.” He shook his head. “To stand by and let you— I cannot, that would be inexcusable.” His lips firmed, determination steeling his gaze. “Extinguishing yourself in this manner is not the only path.”

He stilled, struggling with the burning flash of that miserable _want_; the want to live, to _deserve_ the life that his Creator had bestowed without thought of consequence.

However… Flashes of faces, eyes wide with terror, crossed his vision. He flinched, unable to ignore the phantom sensation of a silky skin of a throat, warm in his palms… His hands clenched, tight as a snake’s coil, as he bowed his head. Dark strands curtained his face from the world, granting the man a small mercy, alleviating him from his repellent visage.

“I have killed,” the Creature moaned, anguish surely rending his features horrific. “I murdered the innocent, all for their connection to my Creator. All to make him suffer as I have.”

“I know,” he whispered. “But you regret. You lament your actions, and that is more than some men can say.”

The Captain jumped as the being fell to his knees, shaking, weeping openly. “Your words,” he gasped, hiccupping, “Your words are the kindest I’ve heard. No other—” He gazed at the Captain’s face, a fresh wave of tears falling. He was looking at him, _seeing_ him, and he did not flee, even faced with his wretched grotesqueness. Insistent now, he leaned closer, pressing a hand to his breast. “Do I not bleed as a man? Do I not _feel_? Am I not worthy of any of mankind’s more gentle passions?”

Tentatively, the man placed a hand on the Creature’s shoulder, immediately releasing when the being flinched as if burned. “I believe you are a man, a scarred, heavily wronged man. You _deserve _a chance at redemption, to see the good side of human beings, where you’ve only been witness to the evil. I lend you my ear, to hear your story. Come, so we may talk inside.”

The being stared, eyes appearing to glow in a feverish state. “You… You would—Oh, desolate beginnings! Were that I had found one of your disposition in my first days.” He shook his head, using the knuckles of his hand to wipe fruitlessly at his eyes. “Kind, benevolent Captain, thou cannot imagine the happiness you’ve granted me. Yes, I will explain my origins and the subsequent tale as I understand, and perhaps… Mayhap, I can learn the better nature of mankind, under your guidance.” The Creature hesitated, lifting the end of his sentence as if in question, unsure.

“I believe,” the man began softly, “that would be a desirable goal, my friend.”


	2. Chapter 2

A gasp escaped the being’s dark, chapped lips. _A friend—?_ How he had longed for some connection, some link to the world, an essential cruelly denied his entire existence. And now, now! Still, he tried to curb his reaction best he was able, swiftly blinking away the tears that again threatened to fall.

A small knot of wariness balled in his chest. He had attempted with old De Lacey, and the family—whom he had in his mind considered his as well—reacted with violence, and left him more isolated and unhappy than he’d been before he discovered the joys of kinship and belonging.

The Captain appeared to notice his sudden hesitation, observant as he was, and offered an uncovered hand, stuffing the glove against his side. “I am Captain Robert Walton, and I believe we’ve yet to be properly introduced.”

The Creature eyed the outstretched hand critically, as though measuring an opponent. “I…suppose so, Captain.”

“Please, Robert will suffice if we are to be friends.” His head tilted, a quizzical edge to his words, “Have you never shaken hands with someone?”

The being’s brows furrowed, eyes occasionally flickering to the Cap—Robert’s steady, reaching hand. “Shaking hands? I have never exactly been granted the opportunity. What does it entail?”

“Ah,” Robert blinked, hand lowering for a moment. “May I show you? It is often performed as a greeting, or to secure a deal. We clasp our hands together, and move them up and down a few times.”

The Creature glanced down to his own hand, stitched and scarred, to Robert’s flawless, unmarred one. Another way he was different, crafted rather than born. Unnatural. An abomination, a blight upon the world. His lips thinned, a painful pulse of his heart reflecting in the unconscious clench of his hand.

As if sensing his turn of thoughts, the Captain gently nudged his hand closer. “Come, let me show you.”

With slow, minuscule movements, he mechanically manipulated his hand to hover next to Robert’s, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his palm. It reminded him of his first encounter with fire, relishing in the gentle warmth it had provided. The man huffed, carefully closing the space and connecting their hands in a loose clasp.

Both jumped at the unexpected temperature difference.

“Christ!” Robert hissed, eyes wide. The Creature ripped his hand from the gentle grasp, flinching away. “No, no, you are simply freezing! It’s all right, my friend.” The Creature kept his gaze averted, gradually leaning away when Robert moved closer, wringing his hands. “Here, let us move inside; it will be warmer there.”

Hesitatingly, he began to walk towards his quarters, the tight line of his shoulders relaxing once he could hear the soft creaks of the being’s steps following.

He silently waved him inside, and immediately his eyes scanned the room before entering, lingering on the window and the door, gaging possible escape routes. He was not naïve, and he would not allow the chance for an attack, as good as the man’s intentions appear. _Please, please let it be as it appears._

The temperature was far kinder in the enclosed space, more bearable than the unforgiving chill of the open Arctic air. Still, the Creature would be hard-pressed to say he was uncomfortable in the cold.

He turned to the man, some form of a question on his lips when he noticed Robert’s violent shivering. He shut his mouth, blinking as the other removed his coat, hat, and muff to set them aside at an old desk. Papers, letters, were strewn haphazardly around the table, shoved off to the side where the damp cloth would not touch them. Curiosity buzzed in his head, but he waved the impulse away, unwilling to risk his potential anger at a breach of privacy. He would not let this chance slip by.

Robert pulled out the chair, one that looked too small for the Creature to comfortably sit. He moved it to face the sleeping pallet, sitting with a soft sigh. “Let us sit here, and I will listen to your tale.”

The Creature glanced around, unable to find a second chair. Gradually, he slid to seat himself on the floor.

“No, no! You may use my bed as your seat, as I find myself limited when it comes to furniture naturally accustomed to, well, your size.”

He grimaced, unnaturally aware of his disproportionate size in comparison to the man seated in front of him. Self-loathing gripped his throat, silencing any response he may have given. He stiffly moved to resituate himself upon the bed, hunching himself to appear smaller.

Robert frowned. “None of that, now. We will simply make do, and if necessary, we could craft you a chair suitable to your stature.” His lips softened into an inviting smile, and it resulted in a queer twisting sensation alighting inside his chest. “It is nothing to be ashamed of.”

He carefully straightened, clearing his throat. “Yes, well… I believe I can start my story, if you are willing to hear it now.”

“That is what I was hoping for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robert Walton: *exists*  
The Creature: I’ve only had Robert for an hour, but if anything happened to him I would kill everyone on this ship and then myself.


End file.
